Spring Air
by The Candle Flame
Summary: Ichigo begins to heal, so life begins again.  Spoilers!  This starts after chapter 424 in the manga.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Spoilers! This starts after chapter 424 in the manga.

The Spring air was fresh and cold, and Ichigo shivered a little as he walked. He hadn't thought to grab a coat on his way out the door; thinking of the weekend ahead, he'd simply rushed out of the ever-bustling Kurosaki home for some much needed peace and quiet.

He'd found himself needing space more often recently, since Rukia and Renji had left and he'd lost his powers. At least he could acknowledge it now; he could remember the good times, the friendships, without them being constantly overshadowed by pain. He wasn't quite ready to return to normal life though. He'd never felt particularly like he'd fit in, what with his orange hair and his ability to see ghosts, but he felt more distant than ever now.

Ichigo wandered with no particular destination in mind. He realised soon that his feet were taking him to a tiny park, not far from the Shoten. It was often empty, a hidden-away patch of green and trees and open space. He'd discovered it months ago, but had only started frequenting it when he'd realised that no powers also meant no Zangetsu. He missed his zanpakutou more than his spiritual energy, his power - although of course the two were entwined. He'd come to realise that he'd actually started to rely on the old man.

Ichigo slumped onto the lone seat in the park, thrusting his cold hands deep into his pockets with a sigh. Alone, surrounded by nature and peace, and in the semi-darkness, he could finally relax. It was hard not being able to protect, or even to see the threat.

The rustle of cloth close by startled him out of his reverie. He turned his head and scowled at the man who had claimed the other end of the bench without an invitation.

"Urahara-san," he said, managing a neutral tone. He didn't really know what to say after that, because it had been months since they'd last spoken, and he'd assumed Urahara no longer wanted anything to do with him, now that he'd served his purpose. Unless -

"You haven't figured out how to restore my powers, have you?" Ichigo asked, eyes wide, leaning towards the older man.

Urahara sighed, and tugged his hat lower over his eyes.

Ichigo's heart sank. He sat back against the seat with a thump. "Never mind - it was a stupid idea," he muttered, but didn't bother to continue. Urahara had always understood Ichigo better than he himself, anyway. The message would get through.

Shadowed eyes peered up at him from under the brim of his hat.

"Kurosaki-san," Urahara began, his voice terrifyingly gentle, "why haven't you come to visit the Shoten?"

Surprised, Ichigo sat up straight.

Seeing his expression, Urahara continued. "Surely you didn't think yourself to be unwelcome? Or that I only wanted you around when you had a use?"

Shrewd eyes watched Ichigo look away, as shame tinted his cheeks pink.

"My, my Kurosaki-san," Urahara sing-songed, "it seems to me that I'm exactly right, as usual, and those were indeed your thoughts. Have I ever given you reason to doubt me?" He tsked, and shook his head with extremely put-upon sorrow.

Ichigo felt himself become annoyed, a conditioned response to that mocking tone in Urahara's voice. His scowl deepened to a frown.

Urahara, on the other hand, was fairly beaming. "In fact, for this lack of faith, I think you owe me, Kurosaki-san! You'll come and clean out my store-room tomorrow, won't you?" He didn't wait for an answer. " Good, good!" Urahara stood and dusted himself off, as if business was concluded to his satisfaction, and now he'd be off.

"Oi, you!" Ichigo said, finding his voice and his belligerence. He stood too, and stabbed Urahara in the chest with his forefinger. The shopkeeper made a very undignified sound and gave Ichigo a wounded look.

Ichigo snorted. "If you think that you can come waltzing into my life every time you need the chores done, you can think again! I don't do slave labour!"

Urahara perked up again, beaming at Ichigo. "No indeed, Kurosaki-san! I promise to feed you, even!"

Ichigo spluttered, caught. "That wasn't what I -"

Urahara smiled enigmatically, then turned and began to walk away.

"Oi," Ichigo said again, but it sounded a bit weak even to him.

The shopkeeper's response was to keep walking, lifting his hat briefly in a wave. "Six o'clock sharp then, Kurosaki-san. Don't be late," Urahara's voice drifted back to him.

Ichigo sighed somewhat confusedly, knowing he was beat but not quite sure how it had happened.

A moment after the shopkeeper had disappeared into the darkness, a thought came to Ichigo. He grinned wickedly and a way to get back at Urahara kept him warm the whole way home.

When he got in the front door, the first thing he noticed was his father's welcome-home attack; Goat-Face took only a moment to dispatch. The second was his sister Karin, apparently waiting for him.

"What's the matter, Karin?" Ichigo asked, immediately concerned.

Karin snorted. "Nothing's the matter, Ichi-nii. I just wanted to let you know that there was a phone call for you, while you were out."

Ichigo had a sudden sinking feeling that he knew where this was going.

Karin continued, arms folded. "Urahara-san said you're to be there at 6am tomorrow, not 6pm, Or Else."

Ichigo groaned, foiled again, as Karin turned away with message delivered. She stopped on her way into the lounge to kick their father in the ribs as he lay in a pitiful heap on the floor, weeping about the strength of his son. Yuzu's laughter carried with the sound of the TV, and Ichigo headed for the stairs.

There's no place like home, he thought, and smiled - just a little.


	2. Chapter 2

_Beep beep beep! Beep beep beep!_

Shrill and persistent in the early hours of the morning, the irritant eventually penetrated into the nest of blankets that completely covered the teenager.

Ichigo's hand shot out of his cocoon of warmth to grab the offending alarm clock and pull it in with him. The muffled noise persisted in the darkened room for a few more moments, as Ichigo's soft curses filled the still morning air. Abruptly the noise cut off. A sigh emerged from the strangely-shaped lump on the bed and all was still for a moment before he threw off the covers and sat up.

As he put down his alarm and began his hunt for jeans and t-shirt, Ichigo grumbled to himself. Words such as 'pesky', 'shopkeeper' and 'pervert' were all audible as he pulled a sweater over his head, but they were half-hearted at best. As he left his room, gently shutting his door so as not to wake his sisters down the hall, he wondered idly to himself why he put up with so much from the man. He scratched idly at his stomach as he made his way to the bathroom to relieve himself and wash up, and then headed down the stairs, yawning widely as he reached the kitchen. He got a glass from the cupboard, and paused at the kitchen sink, glass unfilled as he stared out the window into the half-light. The sun wasn't even up, for heaven's sake!

Ichigo filled the glass to the brim and drank it slowly down, staring out contemplatively as birds began to chirp and the light slowly grew. He blinked when he reached the bottom of the glass, and set it down with a clink. He sighed again, and decided that thinking about Urahara was likely to achieve only a headache. After all, why think about the man when he was about to see him? He should instead enjoy his moments of peace. Resolve to not think firmly in stilled, Ichigo rummaged in the fridge until he found some bread and the end of the cheese, and wolfed it down without bothering with a plate. He finished, and brushed the crumbs off his sweater before heading for the door.

Once outside in the fresh morning air – this time he had deliberately left the coat; he wouldn't need it – Ichigo breathed deeply, filling his lungs. He held it a moment, before releasing it slowly, his control restored. Checking his watch, Ichigo swore – just how long had he been lost in his thoughts about that pervert? – and set off at a jog. He wouldn't put it past Urahara to withhold lunch for being late.

As he ran, the sun came up properly, and signs of life began to show in the neighbourhood. Kids taking out the trash, adults setting off for work, cats returning from their night out, sated on rat meat and adventure and the thrill of the hunt.

When he reached the Urahara Shoten, a little out of breath (was he getting out of shape?), he was warm enough to pull off his sweater as he passed Ururu and Jinta, already battling on the front step. They paused long enough to greet him – "Hello Ichi-san!" said one with a beam, whilst the other grunted – and Ichigo lifted one hand in response, in unconscious imitation of Chad. As he reached the door, it was thrown open from the inside, and there was Urahara-san, beaming and already kitted out for the day, complete with fluttering fan, striped hat and clogs.

"Morning, Ichiigoooo!" Urahara sang. Ichigo's eye twitched. He could almost _see_ the little hearts.

Ichigo grunted again. "Morning, geta-boushi," he said, the old nick-name falling easily from his lips.

Urahara looked surprised for a moment, as though he'd expected Ichigo to still be upset with him. Ichigo pushed past him into the shop, and after a moment Urahara moved to follow, sharp eyes sweeping over the kids, who were shamelessly watching the interaction between he and Ichigo rather than work. Both kids flushed guiltily before making the appearance of work, but as Urahara slid the door shut behind him, he heard them begin to squabble again.

Urahara turned away with a smile, and found Ichigo dropping his sweater casually to the side, before turning to stare expectantly at Urahara. In that moment, Urahara realised that not only had Ichigo missed seeing Urahara and the others at the shop (otherwise he would surely have argued more!), but Urahara had also missed Ichigo. He cursed himself silently.

_When did you grow so sentimental, old man?_ He asked himself, fluttering his fan to buy himself some space. His Benihime, ever-listening, laughed musically at him in response.

Ichigo tapped one foot impatiently against the floor.

"The hell, old man! You want me to work, or am I just getting free food?" Ichigo scowled belligerently at the other man, and Urahara realised in that moment that nothing had changed, just as everything had changed. Ichigo might not have his powers anymore, but he would always be Urahara's student, and there were few bonds stronger than that of sensei and student. It was, after all, perfectly normal for a master to notice the absence of a favoured student, and it was this thought that allowed Urahara to snap his fan shut and restore his beaming smile of before. He studiously ignored the laughter of his sword, which still hadn't stopped. After all, if she thought he was paying her attention, she would become insufferable. He didn't quite know what was so funny anyway.

He picked up the thread of the conversation. "Ah, Kurosaki-san! Who do you think you are talking to? Of _course_ you're here to work, and work hard!" He laughed as Ichigo's scowl deepened. "After all, it would not do to be a freeloader!"

Ichigo rolled his eyes in exasperation. "I get it already! Work before food! So, where do I start?"

Hours later, Ichigo was covered in sweat and dust, and the storeroom had been completely emptied, the stock sorted and shelves and floor cleaned. All that remained was to put the stock back in place.

He'd been left alone for most of the morning – after Urahara had started the morning with his usual banter, he'd continued by setting up camp on a wooden crate next to Ichigo, a cup of tea in hand and the clear intention of watching Ichigo work. When Ichigo had realised what he was up to, he'd thrown the man out of his own storeroom, shouting that if he wasn't going to help, he could pester someone else, dammit! Urahara had chuckled happily and wandered off, causing Ichigo to sigh in relief. Much as he respected Urahara, the man never failed to drive him mad. How had he actually missed the man? It was beyond him.

He paused in reaching for the next box as he heard the distinctive clatter of Urahara's return and turned to face the door somewhat suspiciously. He didn't trust the man behind him for a heartbeat. Urahara didn't enter, though; he only paused in the open door to announce, "Lunch break!", before continuing down the hall, presumably in search of one of the other occupants of the house.

Ichigo straightened, stretching his back and neck, and letting them click back into proper alignment. He stared down at himself and headed first to the bathroom to clean up a little before heading through to the kitchen.

He found Tessai, Ururu and Jinta all sitting around the table, which wasn't much of a surprise. He nodded at the three before settling on a cushion opposite. Tessai nodded back and offered him tea as they waited for Urahara's return. Where had he gone, anyway? Ichigo wondered. He got his answer a moment later: raised voices from the hall caught the attention of all four already seated.

First came the distinctive clatter of Urahara's clogs, and following behind him were two voices – two familiar voices.

"Stupid baldy!" A girl screamed, and a dull thump was accompanied by a howl of pain from her male companion.  
>"Jesus, Hiyori! What crawled up your skirt?" Hirako Shinji asked, and Ichigo sat stunned for a moment, as everything changed and everything stayed the same, all at once.<p>

_Nothing ever really changes, does it?_ He asked himself, and then remembered with a pang that some things did indeed change, and the reply he was waiting on would never come. Zangetsu was gone.

His heart contracted, and sharp pain filled his chest for moment, before subsiding to a dull ache. He stared into his tea, hands tightly clenched around it, and subsequently missed the looks exchanged between Tessai and the kids.

Still bickering, the two entered the room, just as Urahara sat down on the cushion next to Ichigo. He started slightly; he'd been so distracted that he hadn't noticed the man approach – he didn't need reiatsu to hear Urahara, after all – and raised his gaze to meet another that was all-too knowing. Strangely, Ichigo didn't feel exposed; after all, he acknowledged ruefully, if there was anyone who understood him, it was this man. He felt the tightness lessen a little, and even quirked a rare, tiny smile as – still scrapping – Hiyori and Shinji sat on his other side, between Ichigo and Jinta.

"Hello you two," Ichigo managed, bolstered somehow by the strength of the man beside him. He didn't quite get how that worked, but he wasn't about to argue. He didn't have to look around to feel the approval emanating from Urahara, and the kids across the table took their elders' example and began to fight again.

Tessai was having none of it, though; he sat between them for a reason. He gently batted each behind the head with a massive hand, and they rocked forward to impact with the table. They sat up, rubbing their heads, and Shinji paused long enough to snicker before Urahara pointed out that he could just as easily do the same to he and Hiyori if they didn't act their age.

"I'm older than you, arsehole!" Shinji glowered, and Hiyori glared around at the table universally, before ignoring them all and turning to face Ichigo.

"Hey, strawberry!" she grinned in return, before elbowing Shinji in the side. Urahara only sighed, pulling his hat over his eyes as the bickering started up again.

Ichigo's "don't call me that!" was lost in the increasing volume from the two vizard.

"Greet him, dickhead!" Hiyori growled.

"He's right there, you dickhead!" Shinji responded, poking his tongue out at Hiyori. "He can actually hear you, you know!" He threw Ichigo his trademark wide grin, all teeth, as Hiyori screamed at him, two enraged to notice.

All of a sudden, it was just too much for Ichigo. He couldn't hold it in any longer. He felt rather than saw Urahara stiffen beside him, just before Ichigo collapsed. The room fell dead silent, awestruck eyes turning to him as he began to chuckle, then laugh, amusement warring with annoyance and a strange sort of nostalgia for times past but perhaps not out of reach. Eventually he ran out of air, and subsided to hiccups, trying to school his face back into the usual scowl.

"What?" he asked the room at large, unable to completely suppress his smile, amusement still glittering in his eyes. Silence greeted him, and he began to feel a little uncomfortable. He flushed a little, and coughed awkwardly into his hand.

Hiyori made a choked noise, eyes wide and disbelieving.

"What?" he repeated, his scowl starting to become natural again.

"Who knew?" she asked, and an expression of mischief began to crawl over Shinji's equally awestruck face, as though he knew where Hiyori was going with this. He probably did, Ichigo thought sourly; they were two of a kind after all.

"I do laugh from time to time, you know!" Ichigo grumbled, but was in too good a mood to truly sulk.

Shinji shook his head. "It's not that," he said, "or at least, not just that. It's just that you're actually attractive when you aren't scowling! Who knew?" he snickered, as Ichigo flushed more deeply than before and Hiyori elbowed Shinji again.

"Dickhead!" she screeched, "he won't do it again now that he knows we like it!" And the two dissolved into fighting again. Mortified, Ichigo could only stare at his hands, still clutching the tea tightly. He slowly released the cup. Beside him, Urahara had been decidedly quiet, and Ichigo couldn't bear to look at anyone.

"Thanks for the tea," he muttered in Tessai's direction, not waiting for a reply before disappearing back into the relative safety of the storeroom.

A/N: Okay, so apparently I didn't manage to get this one out of my system. This is definitely going to continue.


	3. Chapter 3

After the embarrassing end to lunch, Ichigo had disappeared back into the storeroom and finished as quickly as possible. When he left, only Jinta and Ururu were around, arguing outside, as usual; Shinji and Hiyori had already left, Jinta informed him grumpily. Ichigo had heard Tessai muttering away from the kitchen as he passed, so he hadn't disturbed him. The geta-boushi was nowhere in sight, which suited Ichigo fine.

He didn't stop to wonder why the man had missed the chance to tease him, and returned home in a black mood he couldn't explain even to himself.

The next week passed quickly with assignments and projects all due at once. After deliberately concentrating on regular life for so long, it was second nature for Ichigo to put the Vizards and the residents of the Urahara Shoten out of his mind again. Ichigo doubted he would see the Vizards anytime soon, anyway – he couldn't see Hiyori making a social call and doubted any of them knew where he lived. He certainly wasn't going to the warehouse to visit them, either. The perverts!

The following Friday, Ichigo returned home to an empty house. Karin was at football practise and Yuzu was at a friend's. After such a busy week, Ichigo found he was too tired to even contemplate doing his weekend homework and dropped his bag by the desk before flopping down on the bed to stare at the ceiling. His eyes drooped once, twice, as he fought the pull of sleep.

He must have dropped off despite himself, because the next thing he saw was bright green hair, filling his vision.

"Ahhh!" Ichigo yelled, flailing his arms wildly as he scooted up the bed and further away from the woman perched over him.

"Berry-tan's up!" Mashiro announced cheerfully, bouncing a little on the bed and reminding Ichigo forcefully of Yachiru.

A snort from the darkest corner of the room drew Ichigo's attention. Kensei leaned against the wall, watching with the usual vaguely-annoyed expression.

"Obviously," Kensei drawled, and pushed off the wall quickly enough to startle Ichigo from his – rather uncomfortable – pose: as far away from Mashiro as possible, without surrendering the bed to her.

Mashiro pouted. "You don't look like you're happy to see us, you know," she said to Ichigo, "but that's ok! You will be! We've come to take you away with us, for a little while!"

"Why are you on my bed?" Ichigo blurted a little belatedly, clearly stuck on that point.

Kensei laughed outright at him.

"No more talking!" Mashiro declared. "Time to go!"

"Huh?" said Ichigo, intelligently, as the rest of the conversation finally registered. "Go where? Anyway, I can't, I've got homework, and school, and stuff…" he trailed off lamely at the identical unimpressed expressions on their faces.

He tried again, "my family will notice I'm gone and – eep!"

Kensei had apparently had enough talk too. He'd taken the few steps towards the other two, then reached out and thrown Ichigo over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Ichigo was so shocked he didn't protest for a moment, until his pride kicked in and he started to struggle.

"Oi, you bastard! Put me down!"

Mashiro giggled as they headed out of his room, down the stairs, and out the front door. She didn't stop as they passed Ichigo's father, just finished at the clinic and lurking about at the door doing who-knew-what.

"Oi!" Ichigo shouted as he passed by his old man upside-down. "Old man! Gimme a hand here would you?" he called, still struggling. He couldn't help but feel that it was a bit futile though; without his reiatsu, he was too weak to stand a chance, and he knew it.

Isshin smiled and waved. "My little boy's all grown up and being carried off by strange men! Oh, Masaki, if only you could see him now!" He dissolved into his usual tears and Ichigo stopped struggling for a moment in sheer horror.

"Go inside if you're going to do that! Go inside!" he bellowed, and Isshin obeyed, still sobbing, still beaming, still waving.

"Wow," Mashiro whispered in his ear as they walked, Kensei not having even broken stride for Isshin's antics. "Your Dad is kinda weird, isn't he? I mean, calling Kensei strange, that was pretty understandable, but" – she cut herself off with a squeal as she dodged a swipe from Kensei's free hand.

"Come here, you little…" Kensei swore.

"Do I know anyone sane?" Ichigo wondered to himself, as he uncomfortably bounced up and down on Kensei's shoulder, through the streets of his neighbourhood. Kensei was still trying to kill Mashiro, but he was hindered by Ichigo's dead weight over his shoulder. Ichigo stopped struggling and focused on keeping his lunch down.

Eventually the two idiots paused long enough to remember they were Vizard and could reach their destination much more quickly by Shunpo. By the time they reached the warehouse Ichigo was feeling decidedly queasy; travelling upside down at that speed really wasn't something he'd recommend. He was too busy concentrating on breathing through his nose, mouth firmly clamped shut, to notice Mashiro open the door ahead to let them in, or to see the welcoming committee – all the Vizard.

When Kensei finally flipped him right way up and sat him down on the floor, he was so green that Love stepped forward, looking concerned behind the usual sunglasses.

"What did you do to him, Kensei? I thought Hiyori and Shinji stayed behind so that the kid would feel comfortable, but instead I think he's worse off," Love sighed.

Shinji snickered as Kensei shrugged and grunted. "Well, Love," Shinji said, "it seems Kensei couldn't miss the opportunity – after all, how often does he get to be alone with our delectable strawberry?"

Kensei found a new target and leapt at Shinji, who dodged easily, laughing. He was caught in a pincer movement when Mashiro sided with Kensei for once, the two united in getting Shinji.

"What am I," Mashiro shrieked, "nonexistent? He wasn't alone with Berry-tan!"

"You know," Love said conversationally, "they haven't been this lively since you were last here, Ichigo." Rose nodded agreement, and they turned to see Ichigo's response.

However, Ichigo hadn't waited around idly, and was already on the move.

"Where'd he go?" asked Love, confusedly.

"Oh, I do hope he's alright," Hachi murmured. "He was looking a little green".

"There's nothing wrong with green!" Mashiro wailed from the other side of the room as Shinji cowered from behind the couch, hands over his head.

Hiyori, unusually quiet up to that point, had finally had enough. "Oi! Ichigo's escaping while you two are beating on Shinji! Beat on him later! We need to get Ichigo back first!"

Finally united, the Vizard all settled into a moment of unusual quiet.

"Wait, where's Lisa?" asked Shinji suddenly, sticking his head cautiously around the couch.

The other Vizard looked around and realised that Lisa had indeed vanished, as silently as ever.

"Well, that's alright then," Rose sighed, "Ichigo will be fine if he's with Lisa."

"If she doesn't molest him!" Hiyori screamed, temper restored.

Shinji snickered. "You're just sore that you're missing out!"

He yelped when Hiyori's sandal connected with the side of head, expertly thrown, and collapsed back down behind the couch.

Lisa silently followed Ichigo along the corridor, and down into the basement training room.

Although the others hadn't noticed, Ichigo had left almost as soon as he'd arrived, his nausea soon fading into the annoyance that was once his standard mood. He soon passed that and reached the mood most common since the Winter War: apathy.

He ignored Lisa, walking through the huge empty space, gazing at the rock formations as though he'd never seen them before. Lisa supposed in a way he hadn't; he'd always been too busy to appreciate his surroundings while here, had only noticed what he'd needed to know and kept fighting.

Now he could wonder how the room (and the others like it) had been built, question how long it had taken, imagine the power required to make the rooms permanent. What other secrets were hidden in Karakura Town? Knowing Urahara as he did, Ichigo was certain the man had plenty more secrets up both his sleeves.

Lisa made a thoughtful noise from beside him.

Ichigo broke out of his thoughts to stare at her curiously, hand dropping from the cliff he'd briefly reached out to touch, testing its solidity.

"You know," Lisa said slowly, "you were always so angry, and determined, before. Now, I've heard you're mostly bored and nostalgic."

Ichigo's gaze dropped, and he grunted in a way that could mean a hundred things or none at all.

"But," Lisa continued, and Ichigo's gaze rose to meet hers again, "then and now, you only really light up when you think about him."

Ichigo started, looking honestly baffled. "Light up?" he asked slowly. "Him? Who…"

Lisa sighed exasperatedly as the other Vizard, lead by Hiyori, surged down the stairs towards them. Impeccable timing, as usual, Lisa thought grumpily.

"Oi, dickhead!" Hiyori screamed.

Ichigo gulped audibly, and looked for an escape.

"That's another change," Lisa said.

"Yeah, not now, Lisa," Ichigo said distractedly as Hiyori rapidly approached.

Lisa ignored him and continued. "Once, you wouldn't have let her talk to you like that without yelling back, and when they threw a punch, or a sandal, you'd throw one right back."

Ichigo turned tortured eyes to her, no longer aware of Hiyori's approach, or that of the others, following more sedately behind her.

"I've got no reiatsu," he whispered hoarsely. "You know that."

"The Kurosaki Ichigo I knew wouldn't let that stop him," Lisa said firmly and Ichigo froze. She could see the moment he realised she was right, emotions displaying clearly on his face. Lisa had the satisfaction of being the only one close enough to see strength return to Ichigo's expression, fire to his brown gaze, which finally steadied and held her own eyes for a long moment.

"You're right," he said, "thanks, Lisa". She nodded, and just like that, he was off, rushing at Hiyori, closing the distance himself. Hiyori skidded to a stop, clearly not expecting this reaction, and it was Shinji who whooped from behind her. In a moment, he was past Hiyori and launching at Ichigo, not holding back.

Hiyori watched in horror as they met with a thud, a dust cloud kicking up around them.

"What is that idiot doing?" She asked the others, as they stopped beside her, Hachi dropping to the ground and the rest remaining on their feet, "he could hurt Ichigo! He's got no power!"

The dust had cleared, and they could clearly see Shinji and Ichigo fighting all out – hand to hand.

Kensei shook his head. "Shinji can't hurt Ichigo without a sword – he's strong, but not naturally a hand-to-hand fighter. Ichigo's probably better than him, to be honest."

"But, but…" Hiyori spluttered, eyes narrowed as the two fought on, their usual banter flowing as if never interrupted.

"If he took out his sword, or used Shunpo, Ichigo wouldn't stand a chance. And he was always pretty useless against Kido," Love said thoughtfully, as Rose nodded.

"Now," Kensei continued, "if he were to fight me, or even Mashiro-"

"Even Mashiro," Mashiro muttered, and kicked him.

"Ow! As I was saying," Kensei said, rubbing his shin, "then we'd have to hold back. After all, we've trained specifically in hand to hand for over a hundred years each – even a strong human wouldn't be a match for either of us."

As the others continued debating Ichigo's fighting ability, Lisa watched from the sidelines, as silent as Hachi, and smiled.

Maybe Ichigo had no Zanpakuto, no hollow mask, no reiatsu – but his body still remembered how to fight, and all he'd needed was a little push from Lisa to restore his fighting spirit. He hadn't given up, no matter how he'd tried to convince himself that he had.


	4. Interlude the First

"And this matters to me because?" Urahara asked grumpily, not sounding at all like his usual self.

Isshin grinned down the phone.

"It matters," he continued patiently, "because last weekend my son was up at the arse-crack of dawn to head to the Shoten, on a weekend, to do work, on a whim of yours, and he came back in a terrible mood by the way, just what did you say to him? Anyway," he resumed, "this week, he gets carried off by some muscle-bound guy with grey hair and piercings, with some green-haired girl in tow."

There was a weighty silence.

"Carried off, you say," Urahara asked darkly, and Isshin flashed the victory sign to Masaki's poster across the living room.

"Mm," Isshin rumbled, "over his shoulder! I must say, in all fairness, that my son didn't seem overly bothered by the situation," he said musingly, "a bit of token struggling, but he wasn't really trying, if you know what I mean."

Isshin had to cover the receiver for a moment as he went into a fit of giggles. Composing himself, he returned to the phone.

"My theory is that this week away – he's been cleared from school and everything, you know, they've been very thorough – or was that you? Nice of you to help Ichigo and his boyfriend with their bonding time, like that, Kisuke, very generous."

Urahara grunted down the line, seemingly without anything to say for once.

"Anyway, I'd better go, I think I hear Karin at the door," Isshin lied, "let's catch up for a drink sometime, yes? Great, bye-bye!"

He managed to hang up the phone before collapsing on the floor, roaring with laughter and clutching his sides.

By the time Karin did walk in the door, he'd exhausted himself and fallen asleep on the floor, by the poster of Masaki.

"Idiot," Karin said, rolling her eyes. But she still fetched a blanket to drape over his prone form.


	5. Chapter 4

In the time since Ichigo had lost his powers, life had changed dramatically for his friends as well as himself. While he could no longer even see Hollows, the others could, and they had not sat idle. Ishida, Chad and Inoue had all continued to refine their powers, and fought Hollows as a matter of course. As Ichigo smiled and had no option but to live a life he no longer fitted into, the others strengthened their bonds, certain that Ichigo would not be powerless forever, and knowing that they could not remain on the sidelines when he did. For Ichigo's sake, and for their own, they grew stronger, day by day, week by week, month by month. They struggled together and apart, but always keep the information from Ichigo, knowing it would only pain him and seeking to protect him as he had once protected them all.

Once or twice a month, on the weekend, Orihime would take a break from study, work, friends, and her own training, to visit Hachi and the other Vizard. There she would share the latest gossip (generally about Ichigo), give them the leftover bread from her part-time job at the bakery, and occasionally test her powers out on Hachi, who almost always had helpful pointers. Over time the Vizard had grown to accept her; for Hachi's sake, as well as their own curiosity about Ichigo, Orihime privately suspected.

So it was very peculiar that on this occasion, Orihime found she wasn't the only visitor to the warehouse. She knelt in the sand next to Hachi, the other Vizard nearby or further off as their nature determined, watching as Kensei sent Ichigo face-first into the dirt.

"Keep yer guard up!" Hiyori screamed, focussing intently on the pair. "And watch yer stance: you left yourself off-balance and open to attack!"

Orihime smiled to herself. An outsider might think that the two didn't get on; but everyone who knew the pair also knew that this was simply how they communicated.

Ichigo sprang upwards, recovered in his anger. "I know that, damn you! Why don't you give him a go if he's such a push-over?"

Kensei sighed from behind him, arms crossed over his chest. He knew better than to interrupt Hiyori and Ichigo when they started to fight; it was the girl's favourite activity after Shinji-hunting.

Orihime and Hachi watched the pair bicker, heads moving from side to side as though at a tennis match. Shinji just laughed, while Love returned to the manga he'd stolen from Rose and Lisa to her magazines.

Finally, it was Mashiro's warning that broke the two apart – by this point, Hiyori had her sandal off and was waving it threateningly, and Ichigo was waving his arms around as if to illustrate his insults.

"Berry-tan, look out!" Mashiro called as Orihime gasped. Ichigo had long enough to say "huh?", eyes wide, before Kensei sent him flying.

"That wasn't fair!" Mashiro sulked. "Bully! Pervert!"

Kensei scowled at her. "In a fight, you can't get distracted; I am not a bully; and why did you even call me pervert? That doesn't make sense!" Kensei replied, annoyance swiftly turning to anger.

Mashiro gave him the finger, and Orihime watched with interest as a vein in his forehead visibly throbbed. He restrained himself from responding quite admirably, she thought, amused.

"Anyway," Kensei continued, offering a hand up to Ichigo, who was clutching his face and groaning, "I think that's enough for today. I have to get to work in an hour."

"Half an hour," Rose pointed out from the sidelines, checking his watch. "So you'd better hurry." He watched silently, finger-combing the dust the two had kicked up out of his long hair, as Ichigo reached for the offered hand and was hauled to his feet.

"Damn it," Kensei cursed. "Okay kiddo, I've gotta run, but we're working on your technique more tomorrow!"

Ichigo sighed, but didn't look even slightly perturbed by the prospect. "Yah, yah, old man – don't you have somewhere to be?" He clapped Kensei on the back in a friendly manner before making his way over to Orihime.

Kensei snorted and headed for the stairs. Shinji grinned, all teeth, as Ichigo plopped down next to Orihime with a tired sigh.

"So, strawberry," Shinji drawled, eyes alight with mischief. Ichigo lay back in the sand and closed his eyes. "Don't call me that, idiot," he replied, although somewhat fondly.

"But Ichigo," Shinji's shark-like grin widened impossibly, and Orihime was so fascinated by this phenomenon that she almost missed the rest of his sly comment.

"You let _Kensei_ call you 'kiddo' and you even call him 'old man' in return. You share _manly back slaps_. Why can't I call you by a nickname too? You just like him better, is that it?"

Ichigo sat up on his elbows to stare at him in horror.

Hiyori replied for him. "Who wouldn't like him better, baldy?" she muttered.

Shinji ignored her with the ease of long practise.

"Firstly," Ichigo said, "you sounded like my dad just now, so please, never, ever mention _manly back slaps_ again."

Orihime smiled to herself, well acquainted with the Kurosaki family quirks. Love snickered loudly from behind the manga he obviously wasn't reading.

Mashiro nodded thoughtfully, tapping her finger against her chin. "I can see the resemblance," she noted.

"Secondly," Ichigo continued, still looking vaguely horrified, "I don't like you at all, so it's really not hard to like anyone else better."

Shinji pouted, but clearly was amused rather than offended. "Aw, you're so mean Ichigo," he sulked. "Here I go to so much effort to spend a week with you, and all you do is spurn my advances!"

He might have continued, by Hiyori had heard enough, and clonked him over the head with her sandal. Shinji squeaked, and the others watched as he was sent flying some distance before crashing to a halt. They turned back to a satisfied Hiyori.

Ichigo looked relieved, and Hiyori stood next to him for a moment, the two briefly united.

A distant "Ow!" was heard. Everyone ignored it, although Orihime winced in sympathy. That had to hurt!

Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. Orihime smacked one palm into her other hand. The others turned to look at her curiously. "I've got it," she said, eyes wide, nodding furiously.

"Got what, Inoue?" Ichigo asked cautiously.

"It's obvious," she said, sounding almost feverish in her excitement, "Hirako-san has a crush on Kurosaki-kun, and Kurosaki-kun has a crush on Muguruma-san!" Orihime announced into the stunned silence.

Ichigo choked on air, flailing wildly as an elbow slipped and he fell back with a thump. Hiyori, on the other hand, sighed, eyes squeezed shut, and Love roared with laughter, finally abandoning his manga for the real-life entertainment before him.

"No, Inoue, you've got it all wrong!" Ichigo began, struggling to sit upright again, but any explanation was cut off by a voice from the distance – "I'll never give up on you Ichigo!" – before Shinji distantly dissolved into laughter.

"See, see!" Orihime nodded. "It's okay, Kurosaki-kun, you don't have to pretend any longer! And I'll help!"

The next day, Ichigo was again absent from school, and Orihime was able to tell the others where he had disappeared to this time.

"Huh," Chad grunted, as Ishida pushed his glasses up his nose, face inscrutable.

"I was really surprised to see him there, but he's doing so much better," Orihime babbled, "he doesn't smile so much around them!"

Tatsuki snorted.

"Oh you know what I mean, Tatsuki-chan".

"It's kinda funny," the other girl replied. "He used to hide behind his frowns; now he hides behind his smiles."

"He has been smiling an awful lot the last week or so," Ishida mused, as the others nodded. "Even for him."

Tatsuki looked pensive.

"Oh, I think I know why!" Orihime said, eyes wide. "Hirako-san was telling me that he and Hiyori-chan were over at Urahara-san's for an errand and Urahara-san insisted they stay for lunch! And Kurosaki-kun was there too!"

Ishida looked suddenly amused, and Chad "hmmed" again, more knowingly this time.

Tatsuki sighed. "What trouble is that boy getting into now?" She asked, eyes fierce. "Because he's got something coming if he thinks for one minute – "

"Oh, no, it's not - it's nothing like that," Orihime hurried to clarify. "I think he's got romance-troubles," she whispered.

Chad cleared his throat. "Ah, Inoue, I think we probably shouldn't speculate – " he trailed off as Inoue continued.

"Maybe Urahara-san's helping since he knows them both?" Inoue wondered, half to herself.

"Huh? Huh? What do you mean, Orihime?" Tatsuki demanded.

"Well," Orihime explained, "Hirako-san has declared undying love for Kurosaki-kun, and Kurosaki-kun has a _manly crush_ on Muguruma-san!"

The others looked baffled, and Tatsuki looked at her pityingly.

"No, no, it's true," she insisted. "Kurosaki-kun's too scared to say so, but it's really so romantic!" the others took a step back as sparkles worthy of the absent Rukia reached her eyes.

Orihime decided then and there that if their other friends weren't going to help, then she would help him herself! And the first thing she'd do is go see Urahara-san, who was, after all, already in on the situation and only ever had Kurosaki-kun's best interests at heart.

As it turned out, Orihime didn't need to make a special trip to the Shoten, which saved her thinking up some flimsy excuse for a visit. He came to see her, at the bakery she worked at after school.

When she looked up from serving one customer, she was startled to see Urahara right there, on the other side of the counter, in smart grey pants, and a green shirt under a matching grey jacket. She was surprised she hadn't heard him approach, but supposed that without the clogs there was no warning sound, and he could be surprisingly sneaky when he wanted to be even with them. She shrugged the thought off and jumped in when the manager asked Urahara-san what he wanted to buy.

"Oh, let me!" the girl babbled with a smile. "He's an old friend, and we haven't caught up in so long!"

Urahara looked startled, but then lowered his head, allowing his regular hat to shade his eyes. He chuckled a laugh.

"Indeed, indeed, it has been a while Inoue-san! In fact, if you have a minute…" Urahara trailed off leadingly and Orihime nodded. Her manager sighed.

"You've still to take your break this afternoon; why don't you take that now. But don't talk so long you forget to come back to work!" Orihime was warned. She nodded feverishly and grabbed Urahara by the arm, rapidly leading him out of the shop. He let out an "oomph!" of surprise and let her tow him where she would. She released him as they rounded the next corner, and slowed to a stop. Orihime laughed nervously.

"Sorry about that, Urahara-san! I didn't want to discuss anything at work, but the café down the street is big enough that we can have our private conversation in public!"

Urahara laughed, more genuinely this time, and grinned at her. "I must say, Inoue-san, I think I have greatly underestimated your capacity for cunning."

"Oh," she said sweetly, "I think we both know you've underestimated me in more ways than that," and could have kicked herself when an awkwardness descended.

"Yes," said Urahara quietly, "and here I am to ask you a favour. I really shouldn't have presumed…"

Orihime cut him off, smiling kindly. "It's all in the past, Urahara-san. You did the best for us that you knew. And I don't regret any of it," she said honestly.

Urahara stared at her. "Nothing?" He asked.

She shook her head, and pointed out the café. They resumed walking, although at a more sedate pace.

"Sure, some things were – difficult. But the events in our lives, and the people we spend them with, shape who we become. I am who I am today because of them. And I wouldn't trade my friends for anything in the world."

"Especially not Kurosaki-san," Urahara noted.

Orihime nodded agreeably. "Kurosaki-kun is very special to me," she acknowledged, "but my other friends mean the world to me too. In the end all I want is for them to be happy," she said.

She looked distant for a moment, and Urahara could only marvel at the insight this woman showed; in how she had grown from naïve girl to a strong woman in her own right. Several times in the last ten minutes she had startled him, and he had already felt off-balance simply because of the topic he wanted to discuss with her.

Orihime perked up again as they entered the café. She ordered cheerfully for both of them, obviously a regular, and led Urahara to a table by the window. She sat and watched silently as he peeled off his jacket, and draped over the back of the chair before sitting too. He avoided her gaze.

They sat in silence until the coffees were brought over, and Orihime chatted briefly with the waitress. After the girl left, Orihime turned back to Urahara.

"Now," Orihime said briskly, as they sat at the tiny table and sipped their coffee – well, Orihime sipped, dark eyes intent on Urahara's face, as he wrapped his hands around the warm drink and stared into the depths of it as though it held the answers to the universe.

"You're here about Kurosaki-kun, of course," she prompted.

Urahara nodded glumly. "I just wondered," he asked nervously, clearing his throat, "if you'd been to see the Vizards this week – I know you often go to see them and…" he trailed off at her raised hand, palm out.

"You want details of course." Orihime said calmly, and leaned forward. Urahara leaned forward too, hope and nerves warring to make him feel a little sick.

"Hirako-san is persistent in the face of Kurosaki-kun's refusal," Orihime said.

Urahara looked stunned, and sat back in his chair. "You mean to say – Shinji has been flirting with Ichigo?" he said.

Orihime nodded seriously. "Oh yes! He's not very subtle about it, but then with Kurosaki-kun it pays not to be. He can be as dense as a brick wall sometimes," she said musingly, and Urahara nodded in agreement, then shook himself.

"But – Shinji… and Ichigo…" his stunned look changed to absolute mirth and he burst out laughing.

Orihime looked offended. "I think it's sweet," she said.

The man subsided into chuckles, eyes sparkling. "Ah, but you don't know Shinji like I do," he confided. "I am utterly certain that Shinji has no romantic interest in Ichigo; he just likes to tease." He offered her a broad grin. "I must say, Inoue-san, you have relieved me greatly." He made to go, standing and drinking his untouched coffee down in three long swallows, with a grimace afterwards. "Thank-you," he began, setting the mug aside.

But Inoue cut him off, eyes wide. "But what about Muguruma-san?" she asked.

Urahara sat down again with a thump, seeming to fold in upon himself, all traces of humour gone. "What about him?" he asked, utterly serious.

"Well," Orihime said in bewilderment, "if Hirako-san is only joking, as you say, that only makes things easier."

"What things?" Urahara asked tightly.

"Well, getting Kurosaki-kun to admit his feelings for Muguruma-san of course…" she trailed off as Urahara made a strangled noise.

Orihime continued slowly, staring at Urahara. "I'm sure we can get them together if we can just get Kurosaki-kun to admit his feelings to Muguruma-san…" She fell silent as Urahara looked increasingly desperate. Suddenly, he stood, and Orihime actually squeaked in surprise.

Urahara retrieved his jacket from the back of the chair, eyes shaded by his hat, and smiled at Orihime distantly as he put his arms through the sleeves and fixed the collar briskly.

"Thank-you for your time, Inoue-san." He spoke rapidly. "I really must get back to the shop. Good afternoon…" he drifted off and headed for the door, not even turning at her returned farewell.

He disappeared into the late afternoon crowd and Orihime sat in pensive thought. Apparently she'd read the entire situation wrong; Hirako-san _wasn't_ in love with Kurosaki-kun, and Urahara-san wasn't playing matchmaker for anyone but himself. And clearly, she'd just given the man the worst possible news; that Kurosaki-kun had his eyes set elsewhere. Horrified, Orihime wondered if she'd just broken Urahara-san's heart as carelessly as Kurosaki-kun had broken hers.


	6. Interlude the Second

The remainder of the week flew by, and all too soon, Ichigo was heading home. Although spending time with the Vizards (and their boundless energy) would never be relaxing, exactly, he found a sort of equilibrium in their company that he'd been lacking since the end of the Winter War. It felt great to just be himself around them; he didn't have to pretend that he was fine, or that he knew how to feel about his own life, without what had become such an intrinsic part of it. He could just be, and they'd let him.

He returned home late on Sunday evening, well after the household normally went to bed. He shut the front door carefully behind himself and tiptoed through to the kitchen, dropping his bag on the couch on the way past. He got himself a glass of water with a weary sigh, drank it down, refilled it, and then took it through to the living room with the intent of setting up to study. He was, after all, a week behind on his homework again, although Ishida had stopped by the Warehouse to deliver it personally.

It was the first time Ishida had met the Vizards properly, and he'd had to wait outside until Hachi let him in. The others had all stared at him silently, assessing him, as he ignored them all, face inscrutable. He'd stayed long enough for tea and enough Ichigo-observation to satisfy their other friends before heading out again, but not without a typical Ishida parting comment. He'd said: "You might want to rethink the messages you give people, Kurosaki" – and as Ichigo had no idea what he meant, he'd ignored him.

He set the glass down on the coffee table in the darkened living room, then turned to get the light. He almost jumped out of his skin when a voice spoke from behind him.

"Had a good week, Ichigo?" his father asked from the couch, tone unreadable. As Ichigo flicked on the light and turned to face him, he realised that not only had he passed the man several times without noticing him in the dark, he'd also dropped his bag onto his head, and in typical fashion, there it remained. Ichigo rolled his eyes and leaned over to snatch it from the older man, but his father tugged it away, grinning.

"Gimme my bag, old man," Ichigo said, "I've got to start the catch-up work."

"Not until I have some answers," his father said, grinning wickedly. He patted the seat next to him. Ichigo grimaced, sighed, and sat opposite instead.

"I'm all ears," he said, deciding to humour the man for the moment.

"Excellent!" Isshin said. "Question one: did you have a good week, Ichigo?"

Ichigo eyed him warily, not sure where this was going. "I suppose," he admitted slowly.

"Good, good. Question two: are you planning on visiting your friends again soon?"

Ichigo nodded silently, brown eyes steady and confused.

Isshin smiled at him in a way that was probably meant to be reassuring, but was merely irritating. "Question three: have you seen Urahara Kisuke lately?"

"Not since I was at the Shoten the other weekend… Dad, where is this going?"

Isshin shook his head, and continued, "final question: do you share _manly back slaps_ with him, or just with other men?"

Ichigo nearly fell out of his seat, instead settling for wildly flailing his arms in all directions.

Isshin finished, "Because, I must say Ichigo, the poor man must be feeling extremely - left out - by this point."

Ichigo ceased his spluttering and flailing long enough to pin him with a fierce gaze. "What do you mean, old man?" He asked darkly.

Isshin held up one finger, completely serious for a moment. "Well, son, he gives you space; hunts you down when he knows you've had enough time to yourself and are just getting more miserable; goes to all that effort to manufacture a reason to see you; arranges for you to reconcile with your friends; even arranges for a weeklong vacation with them, booking you out of school and everything – and you don't even go to visit him except when you feel obliged to."

Seeing Ichigo's wide eyes and slack jaw, Isshin decided not to bring up the whole He's In Love With You But Thinks You're In Love With Someone Else issue just yet – best not to push too hard, after all. His boy always had to figure things out at his own pace. _No, better to leave that for now_, he thought.

A nasty little voice in Ichigo's head suggested that his father was right, and he was an ungrateful, unfeeling idiot. He squashed it down, and – always more for action than thought – stood abruptly, saying, "right, well, I'll go see him now!"

Isshin looked momentarily alarmed. "It's the middle of the night! He's got the kids in the house, remember; I don't think he'd appreciate a visit right now. Besides, even geniuses need their sleep."

Ichigo deflated, seeing the sense in the other's words and seeming to fold back into his seat. "First thing tomorrow, then," he said musingly, and corrected himself at his father's cleared throat. "First thing after school, anyway."

Isshin nodded approvingly.

"So go away, Dad," Ichigo said distantly, "I'd better get started on this work".

Isshin stared at his son's face, and realised after a moment that Ichigo was not brooding, as he might have expected, but contemplative. _He really has grown up_, he thought fondly. _So I guess he'll always be a bit dim when it comes to this sort of thing, but at least he can be pushed in the right direction._ He stood quietly and left the room, murmuring a good night on his way to bed. Ichigo responded in kind, absently.


	7. Chapter 5

**Previous Chapter:** A father-son talk gets Ichigo thinking.

Ichigo set off for school the next morning as a man on a mission. He'd completed his homework in a frenzy and even managed five hours of sleep before rising in time for a shower and quick breakfast. He'd often managed with much less, after all; it hadn't been so long that his body had forgotten how to function while low on energy.

His day at school was more productive than a usual Monday. Ichigo managed to appease his teachers by handing in the missed work first thing, and then he spent his lunch break actually talking to his school friends, catching up on their lives and just relaxing. Ichigo felt silly trying to describe it to himself, but somehow even the air felt electric that day, filled with possibilities. When Keigo mentioned that he and Mizuiro were planning on a seeing a movie over the weekend, and invited Ichigo along, Ichigo surprised himself as well as them by accepting. Mizuiro actually lowered his phone, pausing his frantic texting for a moment to appraise Ichigo with his eyes. Keigo just smiled and whacked Ichigo on the back. Much of Keigo's exuberance had faded since the war with Aizen, tempered by a maturity and quiet patience that still astonished Ichigo from time to time.

"Friday night, then?" Keigo asked hopefully.

Ichigo shook his head. "Can't, I promised Chad I'd go to his show." At Keigo's disappointed expression, Ichigo offered Saturday night instead. Mizuiro nodded at Keigo when he turned towards him, and Keigo swung back to Ichigo with a smile.

"Alright! Boys' night out!" Keigo grinned.

When the bell rang for the end of lunch and they parted ways, Ishida and Chad made a beeline for Ichigo, who looked at them with surprise. "What's up, guys?" he asked. Chad just gave him a thumbs up before turning away, but Ishida spoke.

"You're unusually – chirpy – today Kurosaki. Should I be concerned?"

Ichigo shook his head, amused. "You're worried about me? Is the sky falling, or are pigs flying?" he joked.

Ishida pushed his glasses further up his nose, using the reflection of the sun to make his expression disappear. He merely "hmmed" in response, before heading in.

Ichigo shook his head and followed.

After school, they all headed in different directions – as they were in their senior year, they mostly headed to club activities or part-time jobs rather than going straight home. Ichigo, however, was heading home, but only long enough to change out of his uniform and dump his bag. He wasn't sure why, but he always felt uncomfortable being in his uniform around Urahara.

In his room, he quickly changed into his favourite pair of jeans, but got a little stuck on which t-shirt to put with it. In the end he realised he was being stupid, and just grabbed the dark green. He refused to comb his hair on principle, and donned sneakers and his new leather jacket – a birthday gift from Isshin, surprisingly – before heading out.

It was just before four when he reached the Shoten. The afternoon sun was weak and Ichigo was glad he'd worn the jacket. He shivered, a little, and rapped sharply on the wooden entranceway. He didn't see the kids about for once – still at school, probably – and figured it was probably rude to just invite himself in.

After a few moments, Ichigo heard the noisy clatter as Urahara approached in his clogs. "Coming, coming!" he heard from inside, the familiar voice cheerful. Ichigo rolled his eyes.

"Well hurry it up then!" he replied, somewhat amused. There was a moment of silence and then, seemingly, a rush for the door. The screen was pushed aside.

"Ichigo?" said the geta-boushi, seemingly baffled. "Is something wrong?" he asked, sliding the screen wider.

Ichigo sighed, recognising that his father had been right after all. "Do I need a reason to visit you, geta-boushi?" he asked, meeting Urahara's eyes squarely. Urahara appeared flummoxed.

"Well – well no." he stammered, and paused wide-eyed when Ichigo shook his head with fake exasperation.

"Really, Urahara-san. You thought I only came to see you when I needed something. Have I ever given you reason to doubt me?"

Abruptly, Urahara recognised his own words bantered back at him, and the vulnerable, guarded expression faded into mirth. Ichigo was relieved, then surprised at his own relief, and frowned to cover.

Urahara, on the other hand, seemed completely recovered, and whipped out his fan to hide his growing smile. Ichigo could still see the wicked glint in his eyes however, and wasn't fooled.

"Well, Kurosaki-san! How sweet! An unexpected visit from you is always welcome – come in, come in! Have a seat and I'll make us some tea!"

Ichigo tried not to blush at being called 'sweet', but felt the heat rise in his face and knew he'd failed. He scowled heavily at the man in front of him, who was all sweetness and light, good humour thoroughly restored.

As he bustled round the kitchen, chattering away about the kids and Tessai, concocting a brew that would probably not resemble tea even in appearance, Ichigo leaned on the bench and watched, listening with one ear. He put aside a question for later, and accepted the sludge Urahara called tea, watching the other man slurp it down with obvious pleasure, and passing his own untouched mug across when Urahara obviously wanted more. He shrugged and smiled a little when Urahara asked if he was _sure_ he didn't want any, and was certain he'd caught a little smirk from the other man when he offered. _The bastard made it like sludge on purpose!_ Ichigo realised, but found himself only amused further by his antics.

However, Ichigo had to wonder why Urahara had seemed so miserable when he'd arrived – and why he'd perked up so quickly. Was it Ichigo's own arrival, or merely a coincidence? Perhaps Ichigo had imagined it altogether. It was a mystery that kept him quiet all through dinner that night, and for once, Isshin didn't pester him at all. Ichigo failed to notice.

A week passed, and then another. During the week Ichigo went to school and completed homework, and during the weekends he visited the Vizards or spent time with his friends. He also dropped by the shoten with increasing regularity.

Ichigo was remembering how good it was to actually feel normal, rather than pretend to be normal as he had been. It was strange for him to realise that he had not been moving on with his human life, as he'd thought, but denying his past, his friends and even himself. His shinigami self might be currently beyond his reach, but Zangetsu and the Hollow had been two sides of the same coin, and a part of his soul. He'd said his farewells to the merged form of Tensa Zangetsu as he'd learned the final Getsuga Tenshou, and he'd been utterly determined to defeat Aizen, even knowing the cost to himself.

Ichigo had never regretted his decision, never wasted his time wondering _what if_, but now, sparring regularly with the vizards, seeing Kisuke again, he couldn't help but wonder if he was the block between his powers and himself. _After all_, he mused one warm afternoon at the shoten, _goat-face got his powers back eventually. There must be a way to speed up the process_.

Ichigo was lying on his back on the floor with legs sprawled, arms behind his head as he squinted thoughtfully at the ceiling. Urahara was humming a popular song in accompaniment to the radio, and bustled back and forth between the rooms doing who-knew-what. Jinta and Ururu were helping Tessai with some no-doubt-dangerous work in another room, and Ichigo was free to think what he liked.

When the song ended and the humming stopped somewhere near him, Ichigo turned his head to focus on the shopkeeper, raising a brow in question when he found the man twirling his hat on one finger and positively beaming down at him.

"What on earth are you up to, Kisuke?" Ichigo asked, with what he felt was justifiable suspicion.

Kisuke laughed and continued to twirl the hat. "Considering you're clearly the one plotting something, Ichigo-san, shouldn't I be asking you that? And yet, you see, I don't ask!"

The man continued to smile, and Ichigo just snorted in response, turning back to the ceiling and closing his eyes, a small smile creeping onto his face without his knowledge or permission.

"There you go again!" Kisuke cried, melodramatically, and plopped his hat down over Ichigo's face. Ichigo spluttered and flailed, his curses muffled by the hat. By the time he managed to remove the hat, the other man was standing well out of reach, eyes glimmering with mirth over the top of his fan. "You must leave the plotting to those of us who are good at it, Kurosaki-san!" he chirped.

Ichigo spluttered, before muttering "what happened to calling me Ichigo?". As a comeback he knew it was weak, but he couldn't think of anything else now that his mind was occupied with the horrifying idea that Kisuke was plotting something. The man was always up to some mischief, of course, but to mention it at all implied it was going to be something big.

The other man's eyes widened, and Ichigo wondered why he suddenly looked so off-kilter. He slowly closed his fan, and opened his mouth as though to speak, before apparently deciding otherwise. Ichigo frowned and sat up, about to ask what was wrong, but before he could Kisuke stepped forward, reaching out to take back his hat from Ichigo's grasp.

The geta-boushi wasn't quite meeting his eyes, and Ichigo knew that he couldn't let this go. Something that had occurred in the last few minutes had clearly weirded Kisuke out, and Ichigo wanted to know what. So, when Kisuke reached for his hat, Ichigo took his chance. Kisuke took one end but Ichigo didn't let go of the other – instead he reached his free hand out to grasp the other man by the wrist.

He'd moved quickly, but not nearly so fast that Urahara Kisuke, of all people, wouldn't be able to dodge if he'd wished to, and he was now so clearly uncomfortable that Ichigo knew that couldn't be the case. The man was staring at Ichigo's hand wrapped around his own wrist, and only when Ichigo gently shook his arm did he manage to look away. Kisuke looked directly at Ichigo instead, and in that moment Ichigo saw in Kisuke's terrified, unshielded eyes an answer he didn't yet know the question to. Ichigo opened his mouth to ask something, he didn't know what, but the door opened to admit Tessai, and the moment broke.

Ichigo released the hat and Kisuke, although his hand lingered slightly on the other man's wrist, reluctant to let him go. Ichigo stared at his own hand, a little confused at that impulse. For his part, Kisuke straightened, resettled his hat and made a hasty exit out the door Tessai had just used.

Tessai handed Ichigo a phone, and for a moment he stared at it, confused. It was his own cell phone, and he must have left it in another room, he realised.

"It's for you," Tessai prompted, gaze inscrutable.

Ichigo hadn't even heard it ring. "Hello?" he asked, still off-kilter. His father was on the other end, and the man's complicated instructions for the food he wanted Ichigo to bring for dinner, punctuated by Yuzu's background corrections, soon restored Ichigo's balance.

Ichigo rose to his feet, needing to pace and gesture to have a conversation with Isshin over the phone. His raised voice, ordering his father to shut up and give the phone to Yuzu because he clearly didn't know what he was talking about, reached Urahara out in the hall.

He hadn't gone far, only escaping the room and leaning against the nearest wall to recover his equilibrium. Tessai gave him a knowing look as he returned the way he'd come, and Urahara ignored him, listening instead to the clearly aggravated voice of the one and only Kurosaki Ichigo, whilst safely out of sight – and reach.

**Next Chapter:** Ichigo runs into some familiar faces whilst out and about, and makes a new acquaintance.

**Note:** Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! I love hearing from you all. Sometimes updates are a bit sporadic, but I'm doing my best to keep writing and posting as quickly as possible.


End file.
